


Don't Take the Money

by stilinstuck (superagentwolf)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Derek Hale, Car Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex in a Car, Top Stiles Stilinski, that's the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 21:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12896850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superagentwolf/pseuds/stilinstuck
Summary: Sometime in the future, Stiles picks up Derek for a trip to visit Beacon Hills. Stiles sings and Derek is an absolute sucker for him. They may or may not make it to their destination on time.





	Don't Take the Money

Stiles is laughing, leaning towards the open window of his Jeep, the sun illuminating his skin and casting a gold glow over his freckles and moles. Derek almost can’t swallow past the lump in his throat.

Something that sounds like eighties music plays on the radio. The synthesizer echoes and the vocals are triumphant. Drums hiss and beat. It feels like a heartbeat and Derek’s rapid one matches it note for note, a little too fast and a little too loud.

Stiles nods his head, singing at the top of his lungs, one hand pumping in the air erratically in moments between curves where it returns to the steering wheel. He’s tapping his left foot against a plastic foot rest by the door.

In this moment, Derek wants nothing more than to kiss him. He can feel the music rushing in his ears like his pulse.

They pull up on the side of the road and Derek almost climbs over the center console, the song still playing as he swallows the note leaving Stiles’ lips. It hums between them, cresting in pleasure and surprise and joy. Stiles pulls himself into Derek’s lap, messy, hitting something as he moves. He makes a pained noise and Derek eats it up along with the rest of him, eyes fluttering closed because they’re too distracting. Stiles is too distracting, pale skin flushed with vibrant red high on his cheekbones.

His seat lurches backwards, the lever squealing as Stiles’ hand presumably yanks it too hard. He can barely find the presence of mind to care, too distracted by the body suspended above his. Stiles is too warm, like a little fire in his lap. A spark. They’re noisy in the enclosed space, kissing devolving into messy tongues and teeth and the occasional heated moan.

Stiles bites his neck and Derek cries out, nails digging into Stiles’ arm. He almost apologizes, realizing when it happens that there’s the faintest tang of blood in the air. Instead he’s treated to a pleased sigh, Stiles shifting into his touch.

“We’re idiots,” Derek realizes, laughing breathlessly as Stiles tugs his jacket off, “We’re idiots making out in the middle of nowhere in your car-,”

“That doesn’t sound idiotic to me,” Stiles chuckles, licking his obscenely red mouth, “It sounds good. _Fucking amazing_.”

“Why, ‘cause we’re in your Jeep?” Derek teases, breath hitching when Stiles bites harder. He sees stars for a moment, fingers catching on Stiles’ hoodie as he tosses it towards the backseat.

“That’s just an added bonus,” Stiles corrects, eyes glowing with mischief, “and I’m sure it feels way better being in you.”

 _Oh my God,_ Derek thinks, horrified, _that’s not sexy at all, why do I think it is?_ He chokes on his retort, a mouthful of Stiles muffling his protest. He doesn’t know what they’re doing anymore, especially on the side of the road and in full view of whoever comes by, but he’s not about to stop. It feels like they’re in a bubble, untouched by anyone else, out of time and place.

Stiles breaks away, laughing, stretching with one arm to grab something in his backseat. Derek takes the chance to yank his shirt up, biting definitively below one of the moles on Stiles’ side. The body above him shivers, a distraught groan issuing from the younger man.

“Not fair,” Stiles says weakly, huffing as he pulls himself back into the front.

“Life isn’t fair,” Derek says mildly, tasting skin again.

“You always were the worst at originality.”

“I think I’m pretty creative,” Derek says, only vaguely insulted. He distantly wonders why Stiles has what he needs within arm’s reach and reminds himself that he shouldn’t be surprised.

 _He probably expected this, if not planned for it,_ Derek thinks. Not that he’s complaining.

“That’s what all men think,” Stiles snickers, plastic snapping between them in a startling reminder that this is real. _This is happening._

“And you’re not included in that,” Derek manages, dizzy, hoping things don’t end horribly. He doesn’t think he can survive the distance to either of their houses without dissolving into a puddle of desire and sexual frustration.

“Oh, I am- and I know I’m not as creative as I think,” Stiles says, “but I can learn. We can, I mean. If- if that’s-,”

And there’s the Stiles he knows. Just a little nervous, flailing, sincere but not quite able to string together what he needs to say. It brings him back down to earth, reminding him that they’re still so much the same as when they first met. Different, maybe, and they know a thing or two now- but they’re the same. It’s comforting to think that even with the changes, they’re still here.

“Good. Great,” Derek says, wincing at his brusque tone and wishing he could say something more beautiful, “I mean- I’m willing.”

 _I’m willing,_ he thinks, disgusted. So formal and unromantic. Except Stiles is grinning, chest rising faster than normal, looking at Derek as if he’s the most dashing figure he’s ever laid eyes on. He knows he’s not- they’re lying at an awkward angle and, abs or not, no one looks good while scrunched in the seat of a car on the side of a road.

But the point is, the point _is,_ Stiles is looking at him like that’s not the case. Like it doesn’t matter or he doesn’t care or some beautiful, terrible mix of the two.

“Just tell me if you ever want me to stop,” Stiles says, voice low, leaning in for another kiss, and Derek dies a hundred times in one breath.

This isn’t planned at all. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He honestly can’t say that if he had known beforehand, he would have known what position he wanted to be in. All he knows is that he’s fine going where Stiles is going, letting things happen the way that they do, hopefully with the exception of getting caught.

Stiles somehow maneuvers his hand between them, Derek working at his jeans the entire time. They stay there for a moment before Derek hisses through his teeth, instinctively on guard the moment he feels Stiles’ fingers cold and wet against his skin.

“If you growl at me I won’t last,” Stiles grumbles, sucking at the edge of his mouth, “Relax, sourwolf.”

Derek tries to remind himself that this is _Stiles_ ; he won’t hurt him and even if he did, Derek is a werewolf with healing powers. He’s safe, even if they’re in a Jeep on the side of the road, his mind helpfully reminds him. He’s pretty sure that Stiles is not inexperienced, based on what he’s done so far- and even if he is, Derek thinks they can handle themselves.

_Speaking of handling._

“ _Shit,_ ” he hisses, fighting the urge to arch up, knowing Stiles is already close to hitting his back on the roof of the car. It’s an utterly foreign feeling, having someone else’s fingers stretching him, but it’s not unpleasant.

It is, in fact, _very_ pleasant. He almost wants to be angry at how good it feels.

“Oh, good, you’re still talking,” Stiles says, breathing heavily, “I thought maybe you died.”

“You’re not _that_ good,” Derek manages, somehow catching his error and adding, “No one is.”

“Thanks, Der, you’re so good at moti- _vation,_ ” Stiles chokes, snide comment devolving when Derek gets his hand close enough to them to touch.

 _Neither of us are going to last,_ Derek thinks, both pleased and sad at the thought. Not that he wants to take his time in the car. Still, he’s glad he got to touch Stiles at least once, trying to reciprocate as much as possible in the limited space and time. _It’s the thought that counts._

“Why don’t you focus, before a state trooper drops in.”

“They can join in if they’re cute,” Stiles grins, his canines rounded points against his red mouth. Derek has always wondered what it would look like if Stiles were a wolf. He thinks he would have given in long ago if that were the case.

He’s wrecked enough on Stiles as a human. A wolf…well, he’d be tempted to take things probably a little too far. Not that there aren’t ways as they are now. Ways he’s very, very excited to try out for himself.

“Good?” Stiles asks, leaning back a little to ask the question. His honey-whiskey eyes are bright in the sunset, scrutinizing Derek with concern and a question.

The answer is _I don’t know._ He really doesn’t. What he does know is that Stiles will stop if he asks, or do anything else, for that matter. So he opens his mouth and what comes out is as close to the truth as he can get.

“Yes.”

Stiles smiles, an island of purity and love in their hurried movements, and Derek leans up to meet him. He likes the way that Stiles tastes, sunshine and fire and the watermelon gum he was chewing when they first got in the car. He doesn’t think he remembers him spitting it out and wonders if he swallowed it when they kissed. He hopes not.

Stiles leans into him and pushes all at once, careful and torturously slow. Derek momentarily forgets to think about anything else. His mouth stops working and he moans, glad he’s lying down because he thinks he would fall down if he were in any other position. Stiles sighs out onto his cheek, skin hot against Derek’s face. All Derek can think is _why have I not tried this before?_

Derek can barely keep his eyes open and focused, Stiles’ arm swimming in his vision. He tries to ground himself, focusing on the feeling of the body above him, but it feels like the sensation of them together is all he is. They both moan into the empty space, sticky in the hot car as Stiles moves into Derek.

 _I hope it feels as good for him as it does for me,_ he thinks, trying to keep himself ordered. He knows he should be trying to reciprocate, or do anything, really. He knows this but they’re already both so far gone that it’s like the crest before the drop, bated breath and anticipation hanging on their tongues as they prepare.

“Please move,” Derek breathes, knowing that it will feel strange because they don’t have as much time as they need to do this comfortably. It’s not painful by any means but he’s still getting used to the feeling of Stiles.

 _Stiles. That’s what this is,_ he thinks, dazed. _In me._

Stiles moves, happy to do so, blunt nails scratching at Derek’s sides because they can’t get beneath the man and onto his back. Derek can feel a foot slipping from where it’s pushed up against the dashboard and he decides to wiggle down closer, forgetting for a second what they’re doing.

The resulting move and Stiles pushing in makes them both cry out, Derek feeling like he’s going to black out with the wave of intense pleasure he gets as Stiles is buried in him further than he was before. He can hear his claws ripping something and he hopes it’s not the seat, thinking only that Stiles will pout for _days_. He can’t bring himself to think about it any longer, though, because his words are spilling from his mouth as if they were pushed by Stiles’ move.

“ _Fuck-_ please, just- again, Stiles, do that again-,” he says, fully aware that he’s barely making any sense and sounds like he’s got no sense of control.

Except he does, just at the edges of his brain, a built-in mechanism to keep himself from hurting anyone else. It’s so ingrained that he almost doesn’t think of it anymore. Other than, apparently, when he’s in the middle of having sex. _Something to work on,_ he thinks distractedly, missing every second of warmth as Stiles pulls himself away.

“Don’t gotta ask me twice,” Stiles says, breathless.

Derek practically howls the next time, adding another mental note to his grocery list. He doesn’t want to inadvertently call his pack when he and Stiles are fucking. _God. That would suck._

“Found it,” Stiles murmurs, triumphant.

 _No shit,_ Derek thinks. He doesn’t speak because time is a mess and he’s not sure the moment for replying has passed because Stiles is moving faster and nothing else in the entire universe could ever matter to Derek. Nothing is important anymore but the feeling of their bodies moving together and the stupidly hot inside of the car.

_Why did it have to be the car?_

He smacks his wrist against the door trying to grip Stiles’ hips to pull him closer. Stiles laughs because of course he does and Derek just growls at him, too occupied to call him out. It feels like ages but it’s probably only a minute later that they’re both on the edge, Stiles muffling his cries with Derek’s throat.

He thinks the trees around them should flatten when they both scream. Derek feels like every inch of his skin, every hair on his body is attuned to Stiles. There is only the both of them and a wave of sensation, high and throbbing and buzzing with pleasure. Stiles shudders and Derek breathes like he’s run a marathon, heart thundering as he melts into his seat.

“I can’t…fucking…move,” Stiles manages, mumbling from where his head lies above Derek’s shoulder.

“Don’t,” Derek sighs, hands slipping on Stiles’ sweaty skin. He closes his eyes. “We have time.”

“We are never going to have enough time to wash away the smell,” Stiles reminds him, sighing through his nose, “Unless the house is empty. It may be. Hopefully.”

“…did it feel okay?”

Stiles pauses, confusion thick in the air, and then his whole body shakes against Derek. He laughs, breath hot against his skin.

“You’re such a _nerd_. Jesus, dude. Of fucking course. God. I probably can’t handle you in me.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Stiles peels himself away, still chuckling, and Derek stops himself from pulling him back. _We’ll have time later,_ he reminds himself, settling for watching Stiles try to pull his underwear and jeans back up. He pulls his shirt on lazily, wiping sweat away with a tired hand.

“I will. Later. When we have time and a bed. My arms are going to shake for years.”

“You’ll live,” Derek says fondly, “Fortunately for me.”

Maybe they glance at each other a bit more than usual the rest of the way and maybe Scott gives them a confused and vaguely horrified look when they get in, but it’s all worth it in the end.

Absolutely worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> To sunshinexlollipops: I hope you like it.  
> I couldn't decide whether to build a segue from the final season or not but I decided we all need some happy, stringless fics every once in a while- and hey, sometimes the sex scenes are what we're really reading for. Inspired by the Bleachers song, which I listened to on repeat for about a week.


End file.
